


I've Kissed You Before, But I Didn't Do It Right

by LunchLich



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Crushes, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - In Hushed Whispers, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor canon divergence, The Blight (Dragon Age), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27441196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunchLich/pseuds/LunchLich
Summary: "Don't get into trouble on my behalf.""I like trouble," Felix says, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes as he looks down at him. His hand brushes against Dorian's back at the top of the chair, and he's so close that he can feel the warmth of him.Snapshots of Dorian's relationship with Felix, from Dorian being taken in as Alexius' apprentice, to joining the Inquisition.
Relationships: Felix Alexius/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	I've Kissed You Before, But I Didn't Do It Right

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from Pink in the Night by Mitski because of course it does

Felix smiles at him when they first meet. 

And perhaps it's because he knows nothing of Dorian's life, about the strained relationship with his family, or what a trouble maker he was in the Circle. Or how Alexius had found him in the elven slums of Minrathous, where he'd laid his head on the table to keep the room from spinning. He's sure Felix would sneer and judge if knew the sort of mess he was. 

He'll take what he can get, though. The Alexius' have been the first reputable names to not look down their noses at him in a good while.

"This is Dorian of House Pavus. I've taken him as an apprentice. He'll be staying with us during his studies," Is how Alexius introduces him, a hand on his shoulder and pride in his voice. It fills him with joy and even more pride in himself. "Dorian, this is my son, Felix."

"It's nice to meet you." Felix is soft-spoken, but not shy. There's a confidence in his voice and the way he holds himself when he bows. His hair falls in his face when he does. It was nearly to his shoulders before he started keeping it cropped close to his scalp like his father's.

\---

Dorian follows his mental map to Alexius' study with an arm full of books. The layout of the estate is unfamiliar and confusing to him, all winding hallways and oddly spaced rooms, but he's finally starting to memorize the place. 

Being a nosy bastard certainly helps him find where everything is. 

Going up the stairwell, he hears soft music. It's unsure, unpracticed. Piano keys are hit out of time, or the wrong one is pressed and redone. It gets louder with each step towards the study, so he pokes his head into every open doorway to find the source. Was it polite? Absolutely not. But his wishes typically came before his manners and there was no point in changing that now.

He finds the music coming from a shiny new piano and Felix at its bench, a tutor standing beside him and pointing out corrections. It's not any good, in truth, but the ambition and focus make it quite endearing. His fingers aren't practiced enough to hit all the right keys at all the right times, and despite it, his eyes dart across the ivories to compensate, to plan where his hands need to go.

One of Dorian's books slips from his grasp and lands on the floor with a thud. Felix and his tutor turn to look as he promptly scoops it up, and continues down the hall. 

He doesn't catch Felix's eyes on him, nor the smile that follows.

\---

It's difficult to keep his eyes open. The moon made its grand debut of the night hours ago now. Dorian is still sat at the desk with ink on the side of his hand from smudging his notes and sleep in his eyes. He wants to finish reading one more section of the book Alexius has given him to study, and then he'll go to sleep.

He said the same two sections ago. 

"Dorian?" 

He turns in his chair to see Felix in the doorway, a wicked grin on his face and a plate in his hands. "I noticed the fire was still going in here, figured you must be getting hungry. I brought you something to snack on." He puts his hand on the back of the chair and leans in to set the plate in front of him, amongst the books and notes. 

There were a couple of golden-brown tarts stacked on the plate, with chocolates on the side. He hadn't realized how long it'd been since dinner until his stomach made the most ungodly sound at the sight of food. "Don't get into trouble on my behalf."

"I like trouble," Felix says, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes as he looks down at him. His hand brushes against Dorian's back at the top of the chair, and he's so close that he can feel the warmth of him. 

"We're quite alike then, aren't we? Thank you, Felix." 

"Of course. We can't have you studying on an empty stomach." 

\---

The Alexius' garden is pretty. All sorts of flowers in all sorts of vivid colours and shapes, trees that provide shade over a stone path. He finds himself walking those paths at dawn or dusk, between lessons and meals. It clears his head, allows him to focus on his studies when he gets back to them. 

Sometimes he'll even bring a book to read out there, beneath one of the wispy trees that sway with the wind. As much as he loves the smell of musty old books, spending all your time in libraries or studies or with your nose pressed into one of those musty old books tends to make the rich smell far less romantic. It's nice to mix it up, on occasion. 

He's not the only one who takes to studying outside. With a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, he finds Felix beneath his favourite tree with his face in one of his books. From what he can see of the gold-leaf title, it covers the history of Tevinter. It's so thick that Dorian pities the poor bastard for having to drudge through it. Most of those Tevinter-written books are pompous and misleading, anyway, buffing their achievements and downplaying the many, many faults of the nation. "Mind if I join you?" 

"Not at all."

And so he sits beside him, sipping at his wine and flipping through his book in silence until Felix leans over. "What are you reading?"

"Elements and their ties to magical theory. Nothing spectacular. You?" 

"Nothing breathtaking here, either. History of the Imperium. It's... Rather dull. Too much showing off."

"Unsurprising. What are you interested in studying, then? I've been meaning to ask. It feels as if you're studying something new every time I see you."

Felix shrugs and leans back against the tree. He looks up at the branches above them, and the sun passes through the leaves to make patches of light dance across his form. It makes patterns on his clothing and making a necklace he always wears shimmer in the light.

A pretty sight, Dorian thinks, then lets that thought go on its merry way. 

"I don't know yet. My father's been letting me look into anything that catches my fancy until I find something I'm good at."

"Not following in your father's footsteps? Or joining your mother in her endeavours?"

Felix laughs and closes his book. It's so robust that the pages make a hearty noise when they're closed. He swears he can see dust puff out from the pages, the thing comically untouched and unread with all its soulless text. "I'm a shit mage. My talent ends at lighting a candle or withering a plant. Fine by me - it gives me a chance to do so much more with my life than just magic."

He feels a touch jealous. He knows his skill in magic will help him in life, help him change Tevinter for the better. On the other hand, the idea of being able to pursue whatever he pleased - with his father's blessing, no less - sounded like a wonderful life that he'd never be able to have. His path was chosen before birth. Be talented, be charming and polite. Become a Magister, marry a pretty and powerful woman to make pretty and powerful babies with, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. A life unsuited for him.

"I'm sure you'll do great things, no matter what you choose."

\---

It became a routine, Felix bringing him little sandwiches or pastries from the kitchens whenever he stayed up studying too late. He starts bringing enough for both of them.

Dorian wouldn't admit it in a million years at the time, but once or twice he stayed up on purpose to see him. Idly flipping through pages or scribbling to waste time until Felix came in. Each time, they chatted a little longer. Each time, Felix found excuses to stick around, new things to ask him about. He'd lean against the desk or his chair, sometimes he'd even bring another chair over to help him with his work. 

He's smart. He knows all sorts of things about the history of magic and it's theory, even if he knows little of the practice itself. He effortlessly quizzes Dorian on his studies, if he's asked to. He knows something about everything, he has realized. There have been times he's stopped reading or taking notes entirely just to hear Felix ramble on about music or art, or strange little things such as how much he despises philosophers that Dorian has never heard of. 

He's happy to listen, no matter how lost he gets on the topic. Felix is passionate. He gets heated, speaking in his honey-sweet self-assured voice. He very much enjoys his company.

Felix is a good friend.

\---

One of those nights, the nights where they start studying and devolve into talking and laughing and trying to keep their voices down, Felix has an idea. "Let's steal a bottle of wine." He says with a roguish grin he gets when he's about to do something he shouldn't. His claim to like trouble has been proven to be true, even if it's in these small, inconsequential acts. With what Dorian has seen, said, and done, Felix's idea of trouble is quite cute.

"Oh, I am a horrible influence on you. Let's do it."

They act as if this is some epic, adventure-serial quest of stealth. They make a game out of it, walking close to walls and shushing each other if they spoke or took a step that was deemed too loud. It makes Dorian feel like a child again, reminds him of his youth before Circles and private tutors and high expectations. It's... Nice. A momentary weight off of his shoulders.

They pull a bottle out at random and tiptoe back to the study. It adds to their pretence of 'trouble-making' to drink it in there, where they certainly aren't supposed to. Wine glasses completely slipped their mind, so they tuck themselves into a reading nook in the window and pass their bottle back and forth between them. "This brings back memories of my time in Minrathous." He jokes.

"Does it now?"

"A story for later," Dorian winks. He takes a swig, passes it over to Felix. They sit facing each other, with their legs half tangled in the cramped space. 

"You seem to say that to every story."

"Not all of them."

"Most, then." He corrects.

"Fine, most. I'm a man of mystery. What fun would I be if I revealed each and every one of those mysteries to you?"

"I'm not asking for all your mysteries. Just some. I want to know more about you." The sentiment is genuine. He looks at him like he's looking through a window rather than a closed-door, speaking not like the nobles at parties who dig for connections or small talk, but as a friend. As someone who wants to understand him. To truly know him, beyond what he portrays on the surface.

The thought of it is deeply mortifying and exhilarating all at once. He wants to simultaneously run away and lean in closer until he's too deep in to flee as he always does, as his instincts tell him to. "You'll have to get more wine in me for that." 

Felix laughs and makes no argument. The two of them finish the bottle far quicker than they should have, their cheeks all patchy-pink and rich fruit on their breaths. 

"And that's how I got expelled from my third Circle!" 

"You set your tutor on fire?!" He slaps his hand on Dorian's knee in disbelief, both of them partly doubled over in their laughter until they knock their heads together. It merely makes them laugh harder. 

"In my defence, setting him on fire was only... Somewhat on purpose. He was an arse, however, I didn't intend to take it that far."

"You're marvellous," Felix says in a huff of laughter, breathless. He looks up from where the crowns of their heads met, his eyes watering from the giggle-fit and a grin on his flushed face. He... Looks at him for a moment, saying nothing. He looks at his eyes, then down to his lips, and kisses him. It's nothing close to the hot and heavy kisses Dorian sought out in Minrathous, nothing like the tongue-down-your-throat make-out sessions in tavern corners or Circle dormitories after lights out.

It's tender instead. It starts electric sparks down his spine and through his arms, to his fingertips. It's quick and branching and he never wants it to end. He's unsure if what he's feeling is literal magic coursing trough him, or something else entirely.

It's enchanting until they break away and Dorian comes to his wits. Felix is Alexius' son. A powerful Magister's son. His tutor's son. A well-behaved scion who's been spending far too much time with a deviant. So when Felix leans in for another, he's stopped with a hand on his chest. "You're drunk," he murmurs. 

"Only drunk enough to have the courage to do that." The expression in his eyes, something yearning and soft, says that he does want this. That it wasn't a drunken lapse in judgement and rather action based on emotion. The thought that he could have been considering kissing him before this night makes Dorian's stomach twist in all sorts of uncomfortable and unfamiliar ways.

The drumming in Dorian's chest says that he wants this too. His brain reminds him of all the times he's stared at Felix as he rambled, wanting to quiet him by holding his hips and kissing him by the fire, and how each time those thoughts arose he shoved them back down. The twisting in his stomach tells him that he shouldn't, that this is wrong. Shouldn't think like that, shouldn't act on this. Shouldn't misbehave, not now. It tells him that he is taking advantage of kindness. It'd be an insult to Felix and a betrayal of Alexius' geniality by preying on his son. "Let's... Get you back to your room." For once in his life, Dorian says what he should instead of what he wants to. He stands on wobbly legs and Felix joins him with a start.

"Is there nothing between us?" 

"We can talk about it when you've sobered up." He starts towards Felix's bedroom, placing a gentle hand on his back whenever the other man sways. He's no drunker than he is, Dorian sways all the same, and Felix stables him. It's uncomfortably quiet in the early hours of the morning. The only sound in the mansion is the sound of their footsteps. They don't talk. Felix is following him so reluctantly and so caught up in thought, Maker knows of what. Regret? Shock? Disgust?

Dorian is stuck in his head, too. Thoughts of their kiss and how he can still feel the tingle on his lips. Thoughts of doing it again that he pushes far, far down. Thoughts that perhaps, the kiss was given out of pity - that Felix saw how Dorian looked at him and felt bad for the man with the pathetic, schoolyard crush. He doesn't stop thinking until they arrive at Felix' room, and he aids him to the bed. 

Felix watches him like a hawk while he kicks off his boots. He stares right through him with a furrowed brow and his lips pressed into a thin line. Dorian wants to crawl into a ball or shrink down to a size that prevents Felix from gawking at him. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Acting like what? A decent friend? Helping a companion to bed when he's too drunk to know what's good for him?"

"...Cold." He says. His soft, sweet voice no longer holds the assertiveness that Dorian has grown accustomed to. It's replaced by confusion and hurt. He'd rather have gotten a dagger to his chest than to hear the defeat in that single word. "Is a friend all I am to you? Because I could have sworn-" 

"I felt it too, Felix..." He lets a breath through his nose and allows his tense shoulders to slump. "But it- it isn't something I can act on. There are plenty of temptations I'm willing to indulge in. This one..." 

Dorian feels guilt pool in his chest. Both for refusing him this and for giving in far too easily. It feels like fluid in his lungs, heavy and intrusive, making breathing a chore. Felix stares up at him with such sad eyes, and he can't help but push his guilt aside and give in to this temptation just once more. Something to tide him over. Felix leans into his touch when he puts his hand against his cheek, rough stubble brushing against his palm.

He kisses him again. He lets it linger, this time, lets him feel all of it. Soft lips on his own, Felix's hand on his waist. How the tip of his nose pressed against his cheek. The same sparks through his veins that he'd felt before.

"This one, I can't. You'll only end up hurt."

Dorian leaves without another word. The hallways feel lonely, with only one set of footsteps echoing through them. He rubs at his face as exhaustion and shame and the beginnings of tears start to form. 

\---

"I'll miss you," Felix says. He hugs Dorian so tightly, arms wrapped around his torso and clutching the back of his robes.

"As any sane person would." He takes him in when they finally pull away. Puts his hands on his shoulders. Four years, they've known each other. It feels like both the shortest and the most gruelling, intense years of his life. So many things have changed. So much about them has changed.

Dorian is more disciplined. His skills are refined, more controlled. He's found his talent in necromancy. He's just been initiated as a fully-ranked Enchanter in the Minrathous Circle. 

Felix keeps his head shaved now, looks just like his father. He's so much smarter - talented, too. A better pianist and a painter when he's feeling inspired. He's found his passion in mathematics, for some reason, and is being sent off to study with Thedas' world-renowned mathematicians at the University of Orlais. His visits to the study on late nights dwindled after their drunken moment.

"Naturally." Felix laughs. "Write to me, sometime? It'd be nice to have an idea of what's going on before I return home for the holidays. Make sure father isn't going off the deep end with me gone."

"I'll try to squeeze it into my oh-so-hectic schedule. I'll be so busy chatting up pompous nobles and changing the world."

"Pitiful you. Don't overwork yourself."

"Only if you promise to take care of yourself, too."

\---

He keeps himself busy, though to honour Felix's wishes, he allows himself time to breathe between work, helping Alexius with research, and attending horridly drab socialite events. 

He enjoys his work, though. He's a respected Enchanter. He debates in the Lower Floor of the Circle, tears arguments to shreds with a sharp tongue and quick wits. Overall, he's in good standing. And he's... Happy, for now. It's a life that he can tolerate if nothing else. He has respect, as well as time to partake in the parts of himself he keeps in shadow lest he begin to ruin his family name once more. And above all, he's climbing the social ladder. He's gaining the power to make a change, to be able to fix all of the broken parts of Tevinter that he hates.

Helping Alexius with his research is rewarding, too. When he isn't attending parties or business in the Circle, he's at the estate. Leaning over notes of his former tutor and his colleagues, poking holes in theories and propositions. It's not relaxation, but it's exciting. There are many nights where he and his patron share a bottle of brandy and discuss the downfalls of their country and what could fix it. How they could fix it. 

He catches the news as gossip after a debate. "The poor man, losing his wife and son on the same night? I wouldn't be surprised if he stepped down, after that." He overhears. 

"Lady Livia was such a kind soul, too. I heard she was on the verge of a breakthrough."

Dorian's throat closes upon hearing the name. Lady Livia - who he spent dinners chatting with, spent far too much time picking up embarrassing stories from Felix' youth to tease him with. 'Losing his wife and son on the same night'. 

But Felix wasn't dead, not yet. He watches Alexius break when he rushes to their estate. He hugs him as he wails and mourns his wife's death. He holds him as he sobs over infection of his son, not knowing if Felix will make it through the night or if he'll suffer under the Blight for months, even years to come. His tears soak into Dorian's shoulder and he clings to him for dear life. He has always been a composed man, not cold or unempathetic in any way, just... Level-headed. They've grown close over the past four years that he's known him. 

It breaks his heart to see him like this, riddled with guilt for not being there to stop the attack. he tries to comfort him to the best of his ability, reassuring that his presence likely would have ended in his death or infection, too. His words don't seem to get through to him.

\---

Alexius' flings himself headfirst into his research. He needs a distraction, as anyone would, but it's becoming... More than that. Beyond overworking himself, beyond unhealthy escapism. The theories he begins bringing to Dorian and the topics he chooses become more outlandish. Nothing having to do with his plans to make Tevinter a better place, to systematically change the way their government operates and to uproot corruption. It's the disruption of reality. Displacing time itself. It's... Scary. Alexius is desperate, though. So Dorian makes the foolish decision to indulge him, and help him in his research. It'll never work anyway, so there's no harm in indulging him for awhile. It's an interesting idea, at least, and Dorian would like to see where he leads it and what he finds. 

He'd also like to stay in the loop so that he can reel him back in if he dives too deep. 

Felix is stable now, after a few months. Some days he's bedridden, others he's able to be up and about just fine, save for shortened breaths and slower strides. On occasion, he'll find his way to the study like he did when Dorian stayed up far too late. He'll peek through the doorway and listen to them discuss freezing time, cycling it back to prevent the darkspawn attack. When he's noticed, he'll shuffle away with his head down. 

\---

Now Dorian is the one who sneaks Felix treats from the kitchen. Whenever he has free time, whether it be between Alexius' ramblings or his work in the Circle, or before he turns in for the night- he visits Felix. 

He taps a knuckle on the door and waits for the quiet, "Come in." From the other side. 

"Good evening, Felix. How are you feeling?" 

"Like daisies and sunshine."

"You've become even mouthier than I am." He snickers. 

"Impossible." Felix smiles at him. His smile isn't as bright as it used to be, of course it isn't. His eyes don't crinkle the same way. His cheekbones protrude more than they used to and dark circles have formed beneath his eyes. 

"I brought you some pudding." He comes to sit at the side of his bed when Felix props himself up against his pillows. He accepts the dessert and happily hums at the first bite. His nurses are selective about his eating habits, but for fucks sake- the man knows he's going to die, let him indulge. They all know the healthiest of lifestyles won't cure the blight. 

"Thank you," Felix says. "It's delicious." 

"Of course. Now that I've soothed the beast, will you tell me how you're feeling now?"

"...Could be better. Could be worse. The nurses told me I'm improving. That my good days may become more frequent." 

"That's wonderful." Dorian smiles. It's only decent news when it comes down to it. It means Felix will be able to squeeze more time out of life. Only he'll suffer through every extra second he can buy. 

"I wish my father thought the same."

"He- he wants more time with you, is all."

"But at what cost? What consequences will this magic have?" He runs his hand over his tired face and sighs. "I've overheard you two talking about it. Do you truly support him in this?"

"No," Dorian says with little hesitation. "I don't. Death is inevitable and I disagree that it's our place to toy with it." 

"Then why are you helping him?" 

If there's anything Felix deserves from him right now, it's as much honesty as Dorian can spare. "At first, I didn't believe he could do it. I pitied him, I felt for his loss, so I indulged him. It was meant to be an act of charity, to help a grieving man. Returning a favour. He aided me when I was hitting rock bottom, and I felt obliged to do the same for him. I know now that it was selfish."

"And now?"

"I'm scared." He mutters. Felix reaches out, his hand shaking as it rests on top of Dorian's. He lets their fingers intertwine. "He's gone too far but I- ...no matter how far he goes, I still can't stand the thought of losing you."

Now more than ever, he regrets not relishing in Felix's kiss. He regrets not doing it again. He longs to chase that feeling it gave him, those butterflies in his stomach and tingling feeling in his heart, those sparks in his chest. He's lost his chance to now. The risk of contagion is too high - he'll never be able to sneak a last kiss, never be able to feel Felix's lips again. 

He tries to convince himself that's for the best, anyway. It would be kicking Alexius while he was down if he found out. Giving him another reason to grieve. He supposes it'd be putting himself through more emotional torture, too. His hand receives a gentle squeeze. "I've come to terms with dying. I don't want to live like this. I'll... Appreciate what time I have left with those I love, but I don't want the world he's trying to create. He can't save me. I'm not worth the world." 

"I wish we could have saved you. Somehow." Dorian whispers. He clasps Felix's hand between his own and rests his forehead where they meet, and he cries. He closes his eyes and lets tears suppressed for months flow down his cheeks, dripping onto the bedsheets below. He closes his eyes and pretends for a moment that they are in love and that Felix isn't dying.

\---

'I don't want to live like this.' 

The phrase sticks out in Dorian's mind and he can't seem to shake it away. It's on his mind at meals where Alexius is talking about the future as if nothing was wrong when he asks Felix what he plans to do once he's finished with his studies. It's on his mind when the Magister refuses to sleep for days on end in favour of working. When he comes to Dorian saying that he's ready to start putting what he's learned into practice, to start putting his plan in motion, he can't keep it to himself any longer.

"You have to snap out of this, Alexius!" He'd told him, voice raised. He slams his hands down on the table and rattles their glasses of brandy. "Felix is dying. Your wife is dead. You need to accept it and fucking move on before you destroy yourself, or maker forbid something far worse. You've taken your grief too far. You need to stop before you do something irreversible."

Turns out, it isn't something he wanted to hear. Dorian has never been one to hold his tongue, though, even if there are consequences. Alexius lashes out. Dorian's wit alludes him and emotions fog his judgement. He leaves that night, never looking back towards the estate that he's grown so much in. Learned in, fell in love in. He doesn't stop to gather any of his belongings, the material bullshit means nothing to him at the moment. His only regret right then, as he storms out, is that he doesn't say goodbye to Felix.

Perhaps it affects him more than it should. Then again, the only man he's ever let himself feel affection for, the only man he's loved beyond carnal pleasure or fleeting infatuations, was dying. He was unsure if he'd ever see him again. It was unlikely, given how ugly his parting with Alexius had been. Any letters sent to Felix would likely be intercepted.

He tries to forget everything that has happened. The best way to forget, in his eyes, was regressing to how he was before Alexius had taken him in; drinking himself half to death in run-down taverns and going to bed with any pretty man who gave him attention. 

He drinks and parties and neglects his work in the Circle. He doesn't send letters to his family, and they don't send any to him - He wouldn't have it any other way. He's perfectly fine losing himself in headaches and stranger's lips, rather than allowing his mind to dwell on what cannot be undone. He's choosing the lesser of two evils. 

He runs into Alexius again. At first, he thinks he's having a fever dream or flashback of sorts, being approached by him in a shitty tavern. Perhaps he'd even succeeded in crafting his new magic and this was their do-over. "We can let bygones be bygones," The Magister tells him. "I'm going to change the Imperium. Just as we talked about. I've found a group like us who want to restore the glory of Tevinter. I think you'd make a wonderful addition to the cause, between your magical prowess and your intellect."

"I believe I'll have to pass you up on that offer. I'm a tad busy," He slurs, lifting his tankard and waving it about to make a point. 'Restore the glory of Tevinter' his ass, that was never their goal. He's not drunk enough to buy this bullshit. Alexius is still off his rocker and desperately trying to find some sense of purpose, some way to save Felix. He's sure of it. 

\---

Dorian has no choice but to get back on his feet after his parents drag him back home. 'Back on his feet' is a loose way of putting it. In actuality, he's forced to flee to the countryside with not a single coin to his name.

He finds himself in Fereldan, eventually. He seeks to make something of himself again, to try and make a difference despite his social downfalls. He knows exactly how he'll do it when he hears whispers of a Tevinter Magister involved in Venatori activity. 

He follows rumours all the way to Redcliffe. Word spreads just as quickly here as it does in Tevinter, he's happy to learn. It makes his job far easier. He's also learned he's good at playing spy. Making idle chit chat and subtly pressing for information, eavesdropping in taverns and markets. Living as a socialite for so long has served him in knowing how far to push his charm before it becomes suspicious.

He watches everyone. Scans crowds for suspicious faces, for anyone who stands out from the rest. He listens in at the market for gossip and finds so much more when he spots not a suspicious face, but a familiar one. With a strong jaw and brown eyes, hair cropped close to his scalp like his father's. 

Felix-fucking-Alexius. He'd had an inkling he was tracking Alexius. A shady Magister in a supremacist cult? It sounded like the last time he'd spoken with his former mentor. He'd assumed Felix had passed and that he'd gone off the deep end for good this time and left to cause Venatori mischief in Fereldan. 

And yet, Felix was across the way, picking out herbs. There was no way he was involved in this too, beyond association with his father. He was too smart for that. His legs are carrying him to the other side of the market before he has time to think twice about making himself known and what this could. "You know, it's far more cost-effective to scavenge for your own Elfroot." He says. He can't help the grin that spreads across his face. 

Seeing Felix again felt as if he was seeing the sunrise for the first time in years. Seeing him out and about, blight presumably under control, made it sweeter. He whips around when he hears Dorian's voice, his eyes wide and his mouth agape before it morphs to a grin even wider than his own.

He pulls Dorian into an alley around the corner, behind the set-up booths and away from the crowd of people, and hugs him. He hugs him like he did before he went off to Orlais before everything crumbled. Dorian holds him just as tightly, unafraid and unashamed after all this time. "It's so good to see you again," Felix says against his ear. "I was so worried."

"You were worried? About me?" Dorian laughs. When they pull away, he places his hands on his shoulders. "You underestimate my resilience, dear. I've been doing just fine, and yet I was so sure you were dead."

"You must underestimate me as well, then. It hasn't taken me down yet." When Dorian's hands slide from his shoulders, down his arms to clasp his hands in his, Felix is more than happy to let him. His smile remains and Dorian hopes it's pride that he sees in those eyes. "You've grown so much."

"I'm fairly certain I'm the same height. No need for baseless flattery." 

"That isn't what I mean." He squeezes his hands. 

He could thank Felix for noticing. Tell him how he'd been caught sleeping with a noble's son and how he'd been kept prisoner in his own home. How his father had turned to blood magic in an attempt to make Dorian 'behave'. How he'd ran away, left with the broken pieces of himself. How he rebuilt himself bit by bit, free from his family's influence and allowed himself to learn confidence that was more than a mask. He could apologize to him for leaving so suddenly. He could tell him how he'd fallen in love with him in that study. 

Unfortunately, unresolved feelings are the least of his worries. "I came when I heard word of Venatori activity here in Redcliffe. It's your father, isn't it?"

With that, Felix's face falls. His gaze falls to where their hands meet, idly runs his thumb over Dorian's knuckles as he speaks. "He figured it out, Dorian. He's taken it beyond speculation and theories - and it's working. I've seen him bend time before."

\---

They stay in contact. Felix knows just as well as he does that his father is in the wrong and is just as determined to put an end to it, if not more so. So when Alexius is set up to meet the famous Herald of Andraste, they know there's more going on behind the scenes, and they know how to prevent it. Or... In the very least, they know how to try.

"Do you think you're stealthy enough to pass him a warning?" He asks.

"I have my father wrapped around my finger, Dorian. I know exactly how to get the message to him."

"I'll meet you in the Chantry, then."

\---

"I was expecting Felix to be here," The Herald says. He's sceptical- with good reason, Dorian supposes. They've come here to warn him of an ambush, and with the amount of power the Herald holds in his hands - quite literally - this can't be the first.

"I'm sure he's on his way. He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father."

"Alexius couldn't jump to Felix's side fast enough while he was pretending to be faint. Is something wrong with him?" So blunt, Dorian thinks. The Dalish man is half as nosy as he is.

"He's had some lingering illness for months. Felix is an only child, and Alexius is being a mother hen, most likely."

"I still don't see the point in meeting you here. I'd like to know what's going on."

"You must know there's danger. That should be obvious even without the note," He starts. He tries his damnedest to explain the magic his mentor has created. He knows it sounds impossible, the most outlandish thing, but the Herald and his agents of the Inquisition have seen what it does. What this unstable magic is capable of, with the rifts that twisted time around themselves. 

"I'd like more proof than 'magical time control! Go with it.'" 

Dorian sighs, his fist clenching around his stave. So much rests on the Herald's trust. If he can't earn it? Well, he's not sure what he'll do. If doesn't heed the warning it'll be his own damn fault. On the other hand, they do need someone to close the breach. To allow the Herald to be blindsided would be to doom the world. "I know what I'm talking about. I helped develop this magic. When I was his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don't understand is why he's doing it?" Dorian lies through his teeth to save time. He'd rather not stand here and recall the intricacies of how this came about. "Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?"

"He's not doing it for them." 

Dorian's gaze falls to Felix, and a small wave of relief washes over him. He was beginning to fear his fainting spell hadn't fully been a farce. "Took you long enough. Is he getting suspicious?"

Hearing the same from Felix seems to work to convince the Herald. A sick son, telling tales of his father's downfall and how dangerous he is - it's more believable, easier to sympathize with more than Dorian's claims. They have a plan. Or rather, he trusts that the Herald has a plan, and he intends to be there as it unfolds. For everyone's sake... And especially Felix's.

"Whenever you're ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I'll be in touch. Oh- And Felix? Try not to get yourself killed." He says with a grin. The Herald looks between them as if trying to figure out if they're passing conspiratory code. So much distrust.

"There are worse things than dying, Dorian."

\---

This - all of this, is a mess. They were never meant to see this wretched future. This magic was never even meant to exist. If he hadn't indulged Alexius, if he'd tried to snap him out of this when all of it started...

He can't focus on his guilt now. He'd have plenty of time to wallow in his own sorrow and guilt and regrets with as much dramatic flair as he pleased if they got out of this.

He doesn't recognize Felix when he first sees him. Not until Leliana grabs the man crouching on the floor like a feral animal by the collar and hoists him up, her blade to his throat. 

"Felix!" Alexius exclaims.

Felix's skin is drained of all colour. There's no colour in his cheeks or at the tips of his ears, no tint to his lips. He's lost all of his hair and his frame looks... Skeletal, face gaunt with hollowed cheekbones. Dorian had thought he was a reanimated corpse, and he may as well be with the state he's in. There's no struggle when Leliana lifts him up. His arms are limp at his side and his head lolls against his shoulder. 

"That's Felix?" Dorian's voice comes out weaker than he'd prefer. "Maker's breath, Alexius, what have you done?"

"He would have died, Dorian! I saved him! Please, don't hurt my son. I'll do anything you ask." 

Rage and despair build up deep inside of Dorian, twisting and tying together as he's eyes flick between father and son. Between an almost-lover and corrupted man he used to look up to, who holds on to the last shred of life Felix has left. But Felix is weak and shaking, only being held up by Leliana's grasp. He's suffering.

"Hand over the amulet, and we'll let him go." The Herald speaks. He speaks clearly, calm and collected as if their lives aren't in grave danger. Then again, the poor bastard is probably desensitized to this level of danger now.

"Let him go, and I swear you'll get what you want."

"I want the world back." The woman says, her own appearance deformed from how it should be, too pale and too withered. She pulls the knife back and slits Felix's throat.

Dorian's jaw clenches so tightly it shoots pain through his skull. The sound is horrible. The gurgling of blood, a wet groan of pain. His body hitting the floor. Dorian stares on at the blood draining from his pooling around him, soaking into his clothes, spreading through the crevices of the stone floor. Splattered onto Alexius' and Leliana's robes. He doesn't feel sorrow or fear. He doesn't feel anger or grief. 

He only hears the sound of Felix choking on his own blood and Alexius's screams as magic begins to crackle around them. 

\---

Dorian is... Numb, after defeating Alexius. He should be happy they're back. He should be happy they stopped him, that Felix is himself and alive when they return. But he can't stop hearing the thud of a body on stone.

"You won. There's no point extending this charade." Alexius says. On his knees, a broken man who's lost everything. A man you used to be so great, Dorian thinks. It scares him to think about how fast that had changed. "Felix..."

"It's going to be alright, Father."

"You'll die."

"Everyone dies."

\---

"Anything interesting?" The Herald approaches him in the library. Dorian finds himself spending much of his time there, since joining the Inquisition. Sipping his wine and doing whatever research they'd want him to do, or what he imagines they'd find useful. Musty old books and reading nooks have become more of a comfort than ever. 

"A letter regarding Felix. Alexius' son. He went to the Magisterium. Stood on the Senate floor and told them of you. A glowing testimonial, I'm informed." He looks down at the letter in his hand again, scans over the neatly written words once more before he sets it on the table. "No news on the reaction, but everyone back home is talking. Felix always was as good as his word."

"Was?" The Herald asks, and Dorian swallows.

He keeps his composure, though. He'd always been good at tucking things away to save face. "He's dead. The blight caught up with him."

"Are you alright?" 

"He was ill, and thus on burrowed time anyhow." 

"That doesn't mean you can't regret his death."

Regret it he does. A part of him still wonders if there's anything he could have done differently. He doesn't allow himself to get caught up in his guilt. Rationally, he knows this was unavoidable. And he will not spiral down the same guilt as his mentor. 

"I know," He says, turning to run his fingers over the spines of the books behind him. He pulls one out to flip through it, for no reason other than to avoid eye contact as he speaks. To give the illusion of poise. "Felix used to sneak me treats when I was working late in his father's study. 'Don't get into trouble on my behalf', I'd tell him. 'I like trouble,' he'd say." It stands out so clearly in his mind. "Tevinter could use more mages like him, those who put the good of others above themselves."

"Were the two of you...?"

Dorian nearly laughs. "Felix and I? What an odd question." He closes his distraction of a book and slides it back into its place on the shelf.

"No, I had no intention of abusing Alexius' hospitality by seducing his son."

**Author's Note:**

> gonna be super honest? not entirely happy with this one. HOWEVER i am very proud of myself for sticking with a fic this long, because I have a hard time writing anything longer than 1.5k words.
> 
> this whole ass thing literally spawned from that last line of dialogue wtf


End file.
